


Angular

by antiquated_sorceress



Category: Atlantis (UK TV)
Genre: Frottage, M/M, Neck Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-22
Updated: 2013-10-22
Packaged: 2017-12-30 03:35:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1013605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antiquated_sorceress/pseuds/antiquated_sorceress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"So, where you come from...Can men seek the company of other men?"</p><p>Jason tilts his head. “Pythagoras, are you coming out to me?” Pythagoras frowns, points to a tree and looks around.</p><p>“Are we not out already?” he asks, and Jason shakes his head with a laugh.</p><p>“We’re both out, yes.”</p><p>“I feel as though I’ve just missed a joke.” Pythagoras barely catches Jason’s mumble of, “Just one on me,” and is left to ponder if that’s a joke as well as Jason waves him further into the woods for food.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Angular

Their money has run low recently. Pythagoras says they could save a full quarter of their budget if Hercules cuts down on his flagons, but that suggestion was destined to fail before it left his lips. So Pythagoras and Jason are scavenging for food in the woods when Pythagoras smoothly says, “So…where you come from…” Jason has mentioned little of his world, aside from his initial ramblings and the occasional murmur under his breath that he disregards once he’s asked to repeat it. Pythagoras had at first thought it was the blood loss causing delirium. But there were moments, when Jason was with people he had just met, when he looked at them with such sadness it was as if he were seeing the worst possible fate for them. Pythagoras hadn’t known him much, but even that allowed him to deduce that Jason was no pessimist overall.

Jason pauses while clearing a brush and starts up again. “What about it?” he asks, guarded. Pythagoras scolds himself for the tug in his chest that results from Jason’s apparent lack of total trust in him. Perhaps the memory is too emotionally draining.

“I’m sorry. I only meant to ask how the culture is different from ours.”

“It’s different in almost every way imaginable, really.” Jason puts a branch back. “What did you want to know about it?”

“Well I—uh—” Pythagoras can feel it tumbling out before he can contain it: “Would I be prying if I asked how…romance…worked there?” Jason relaxes visibly and turns to gives a smile. Pythagoras can feel one inch onto his face. Safe topic. Good.

“Are you trying to ask my help with a crush of yours?”

“I’m trying to ask if men can seek the company of other men,” he can feel Jason’s eyes on him, “where you’re from.”

“Who’s the lucky guy?”

“I’m—What?” Pythagoras’s mouth opens, but Jason’s grin metamorphoses into full-on shit-eating grin, all attention zeroed in on him, and then Pythagoras is aware that he’s forming words, but each stops after the first syllable. “So,” he says when his mouth works again, allowing himself to hope with caution. “It is not unheard of, then?”

“Not at all.” Jason tilts his head. “Pythagoras, are you coming out to me?” Pythagoras frowns and points to a tree and looks around.

“Are we not out already?” he asks, and Jason shakes his head with a laugh.

“We’re both out, yes.”

“I feel as though I’ve just missed a joke.” Pythagoras barely catches Jason’s mumble of, “Just one on me,” and is left to ponder if that’s a joke as well as Jason waves him further into the woods for food.

————————————————————————————————————————-

Pythagoras got his question answered that day in the woods, but it’s over the next few weeks that he wonders whether asking it was a good idea. He feels Jason’s eyes on him even more now, and he’s pretty sure it’s not just because he’s more aware of his gaze. Pythagoras talks to a shopkeeper? Eyes. Accidentally bumps into a man while walking? Eyes.

Pythagoras finally brings it up after he smiles at a kind young man on the way home, and there again are Jason’s eyes.

“That’s a little disconcerting,” he mentions once home as they settle their products on the table.

“What is?”

“Your staring.” Jason glances up from the jug. “Well don’t think just because I don’t comment on it doesn’t mean I don’t notice.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s not any of them,” he says, in case Jason has held himself back from Pythagoras out of belief that Pythagoras is pursuing someone else. “They’re not really my type.”

“You have a type?”

“A new one, apparently.” Jason’s top lip curls and he puts a hand flat on his own chest and another out in a warning to Pythagoras.

“If you say it’s Hercules, I might have—”

“No! No, gods! That drunken mess?” He likes Hercules, in that I’m-stuck-with-you-so-we-may-as-well-make-the-most-of-it sibling way, but he is grateful whenever Hercules spent time in taverns and brothels for giving Pythagoras time to himself and his work. Now is one of those times. He doesn’t even want to entertain the idea of how much Hercules’s teasing would magnify if he ever heard Jason’s suggestion. “What do you think I’m doing, pulling his pigtails?”

“You do live together.”

“You and I also live together,” he blurts, and then clenches down on his teeth before he can give himself away.

“Oh. That’s true. ” Jason quiets after that. You’ve just hurt his feelings. Slays a fucking minotaur and crumples when you point out your mutual living conditions. Pythagoras grimaces, and hurries to correct himself.

“Not that you’re—” Pythagoras gives a circular gesture in the air. “I mean, you’re quite handsome. Muscular and tan. Skilled. Very…angular.” He frowns, doesn’t know where he was going with this. Shit. He rubs his index finger along the bridge of his nose, mind occupied with potential ways to write off his unwarranted compliments without giving himself away. Jason breaks the succeeding silence with a noise in his throat like he wants to speak, and after another silence, he speaks.

“And you’re very noble,” Jason begins. “Kind of adorable. Very, actually.” And like it’s some damn competition, he continues with, “and your hair looks soft and I like the way your collar bones jut out and the tendons on your neck.” Pythagoras pauses. Repeats the words in his mind. Is suddenly shaky hand when his hands instinctively fly to said collar bones as he tries to process what just happened. Is Jason closer? Fuck. Jason is closer.

“And I kind of want to know how they feel under my mouth,” Jason whispers. Pythagoras can feel the breath on his lips and he’s shaking and his hands are curling. His throat is dry. He swallows. Jason follows the movement with his eyes. He’s dizzy. Fuck, unless fainting is now sexy, it would be rather unfortunate for the mood they’re established. Jason’s serious?

Jason is transfixed by a place on Pythagoras definitely lower than his eyes, and he thinks it unlikely for nose fetishes to be a thing, so Jason’s next words only confirm his thoughts: “But I think I’d like to try your lips first.” Pythagoras licks his lips in reaction, watches surprised as Jason’s pupils dilate at the sight. Why isn’t he moving in?

“What’s stopping you then?” Pythagoras manages with a surge of bravery, though his voice sounds like he’s just choked on seawater, but maybe that’s sexy now, because then Jason’s lips are coming toward his. He kind of misses and kisses the philtrum. The tip of his tongue traces the shape of it.

“You’re triangular too,” Jason whispers against it, his lips quirked and brushing against Pythagoras’s, and Pythagoras doesn’t much like how not-quite-there Jason’s lips are. Do it. Come on, idiot. He wants you to. Pythagoras rushes to move his head to meet Jason’s mouth, but ends up just between it and chin and huffs. Jason’s resulting smile is wide and fond against Pythagoras’s peach fuzz and somehow manages to make Pythagoras feel loved rather than mocked. “Third time does it,” Jason murmurs, his hand gently keeping Pythagoras in place by the jaw, and finally touches his mouth to Pythagoras’s. His lips are warm and testing.

Pythagoras had too many days and nights of having to check himself, to think of Hercules doing star jumps when Jason struts around shirtless and trains. There have been too many instances when he almost broke and launched himself at Jason to not take advantage of the opportunity when it lands in his lap. (Jason has a nice lap. He’ll have to see if it’s comfortable later.) Pythagoras takes Jason’s bottom lip between his own. Jason’s mouth parts for him, sucking lightly on Pythagoras’s top lip, and Pythagoras really can’t be blamed for the shudder that runs through him or his movement to lick over Jason’s lip being too forward. It’s been so long since he’s kissed anyone. Years. So when Jason’s tongue slides over Pythagoras’s, he congratulates himself on his legs not giving out and having enough brain left over to bite lightly at Jason’s lip. Warm. Gentle. Tingle-inducing.

The world is moving, but not because of his lightheadedness anymore. Pythagoras feels his shoulders touch the wall. Jason could overpower him so easily but maintains their control mutual, and Jason’s such a good guy that Pythagoras’s fondness for him solidifies even more and—Jason moves. Jason moves, and it might be accidental, but it’s delicious and his moan mingles with Pythagoras’s.

“Oh, that’s—”

“Awesome?” Jason laughs, nods, his nose brushing against the side of Pythagoras’s as he thinks, yes, this certainly does have him in awe. Pythagoras gains hold of Jason’s waist and tries to recreate the sensation with a sliding motion against him. It’s there again and better and he doesn’t know what he did for the gods to bring him this man. His fingers clutch Jason’s tunic as it intensifies with each slow, shy roll of their hips. His face heats at his newfound incoherence, at how ridiculous he must look—head against the wall, mouth open, the noises that escape both of them, some of them admittedly just from how much he likes Jason’s. “Good, that’s good,” he pants.

Then there’s warmth on his neck and he likes it and then there’s a tongue and Pythagoras tilts his head back to give Jason more room and then there’s sucking and Pythagoras tilts his head even more and then there’s light nipping and Pythagoras thinks it’s a joke at this point because he can’t possibly tilt his head anymore and the noises and movements Jason is forcing from him are entirely undignified and Pythagoras can’t bring himself to stop rutting against him. A hand in his hair tugs his head back and heat on his neck from where Jason’s breaths are coming quickly through his nose. Too much, it’s too much, and he clutches helplessly at Jason’s back as his moans come more frequently and shame threatens to give way to pursuit of pleasure and his toes start to curl in his boots and he hasn’t even had a chance to reciprocate Jason’s kindness.

“Jason. Jason, I can’t keep going this quickly. I’m going to come,” he gasps, breath coming short, eyes shut tight, face flaming because their pace is even relatively slow, but it’s been so long and it’s Jason’s mouth on him and it’s Jason’s groin against his and he’s too lost in sensation to possibly keep his hips still.

“It’s okay,” Jason says against his jaw. “Me too.” That’s the final string, what sets Pythagoras off with a bite of his lip and a pitiful drawn-out whimper and a hand in Jason’s hair to ground him when his mind leaves his body in bliss.

Jason has almost fully stopped against his thigh when he comes back to himself. As he pants and slumps against the wall, Jason’s tense body against his, and he realizes that Jason has yet to find release.

“You haven’t…?”

“No. Was waiting for you.”

“You—” It’s so kind, so thoughtful, that Pythagoras doesn’t even think before he pulls Jason’s hair up to suck beneath his ear and reaches down to massage Jason’s length through his trousers. Jason’s gasp is audible in his ear, and as his hips frantically meet Pythagoras’s hand, so is Jason’s moan when his hand becomes damp. He pets Jason’s hair through his orgasm with his free hand, pulling that one away when Jason starts twitching away. “Gods help me,” Pythagoras murmurs against the skin, because he it simply can’t be expected for him have (tunic-allergic) Jason in his presence and not spend his days riding him across the forest. They share a boneless comedown, grabbing onto each other to keep from falling, which Pythagoras in the back of his mind can register isn’t too brilliant since neither of them are too steady on their feet,

Jason lowers his head, kind of jamming Pythagoras’s cheek by accident, and laughs lightly into Pythagoras’s shoulder. Cold horror travels through Pythagoras’s veins. He releases Jason’s tunic.

“If you did this as a joke, Jason, I will find a way to smother you in your sleep.” Jason shakes his head into the shoulder.

“Very angular,” Jason giggles into his skin. “You like me because I look like a triangle?” Pythagoras groans.

“It’s already too good to be true. I’ve fallen for an utter dufus.” Jason is on his mouth again, the feeling of his smile bringing one to Pythagoras’s face. Then a moan, because who said it was okay to do that to his tongue?

Pythagoras pulls away and his eyes won’t quite open all the way or focus. “Okay. A dufus whose skills extend to the finer aspects of life. Now come on, the bed allows more versatility.” Pythagoras pushed Jason off of him regretfully, only allowing himself to do so because he knows he can melt into Jason once more when they get to his room.

“Does this mean I can lay off sleeping on the floor?” Jason asks. Pythagoras pushes him down and crawls onto him in answer.

Later on, when Hercules arrives, Pythagoras thanks the gods that today his trip was to the tavern; he’s so unstable on his feet that he misses Pythagoras and Jason snickering under the covers.


End file.
